Fatal Flaw
by HHKath
Summary: Shade is a demon who entered a contract, and has to protect a young orphan girl. Fine is a young girl whose family was murdered by an unknown assassin. Both of them, however, have made the same mistake: falling in love with the person who could cause your demise. FxS. Rated T for content. Sorry for being bad a summaries.
1. Chapter 1

Hello! This story has been partly inspired by Kuroshitsuji's demon folklore. Hope you enjoy it! Also, I do not own any characters from Fushigiboshi no Futagohime.

My greatest mistake was meeting her.

Chapter 1

The fields were golden in Sunny Village. It was afternoon in autumn, and the villagers were harvesting their year's efforts. Bent over amongst the waves of wheat, they heaved and grunted and tugged and swerved. It was almost rhythmic: the whistle and the crunch of grass as the villagers walked on them, and the rustle of the crops, like sighing into a harmonica. The tree branches were all laden with fruit, and two girls, on the way to the river, danced beneath them. One of them, with flaming red hair, jumped up to grab the lowest fruit. She bit on it its tender flesh, and immediately its juice poured down her hand, her arm, and the brim of her soft, guileless mouth. She jumped again, grabbed another, and gave it to her sister. The branch recoiled at the absence of her touch, and the leaves bounced, frightening the swallows perched nearby.

"Another one, another one!" her sister cheered on, and the redhead grinned. She couldn't be older than eight, but already she was taller than most boys her age in the village, as well as her twin sister. Rather than comply with her twin, she leaped and grasped onto a branch, wrapped her legs around it.

"Look, Rein!" And then, she let go of her hands, allowing her torso to swing in mid air, relying on only her legs to keep herself attached to the tree.

Rein clapped her hands with glee. The redhead had been climbing trees since she was four, and has always astounded her sister with her dexterity and nimbleness. The nastier boys would liken her to a monkey, to which she argued with such ferocity that it took several of her friends to calm her down. Yet there hasn't been a single tree in the village that she hadn't climbed, save the oak tree at the furthest end of the village, and she swore that once she was old enough and strong enough, she would mount the oak tree and declare herself the champion of tree climbers.

"Fine! Come here!" Rein dragged her sister towards the river. It was barely wider than a stream, but under the sunlight, it glinted and glimmered like a jewel. The twins rushed into it, and Fine, being headstrong and reckless as ever, started to somersault under water. Rein splashed at her sister's bobbing head, and in response, Fine tackled her into the river. Her ruby eyes glinted with mischief, and her skin glistened like marble. Her red hair, now heavy with water and mud, hung limply below her shoulders. Rein soon got tired of swimming, and lay on the grass revelling in the sunlight. Fine ignored her sister, and continued swimming downstream, away from the fields and her blue-haired twin. Her strong, graceful strokes differed so much from her usual bumbling manner, but the grin that dangled upon her lips betrayed the truth.

Her lips. I always end up with her lips. I could write a thousand words describing them, how they resembled the blooming rose, or the folds of her skirt, or how they would stretch and bend to beguile or devastate. How her smile was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, and how until long after her death, they were as red as the dying sun.

I try to relive those moments as often as possible. Of the days before I was formerly introduced to her. I only had a fleeting glimpse of her then, and the description I had gathered were mainly from the other villagers' accounts, and this small pendant of hers that I still keep. It had convinced me that she had always been beautiful. Beautiful on her wedding day, beautiful when I met her, and beautiful before I had murdered her entire family.

"I want them dead!" cried Omendo. He was an old man most of the village ignored. When he summoned me, he was sitting alone in his hut, and dust had alighted on his sullen skin.

I never ask why. Some of us do, some don't. I don't find it necessary, since I'm only there for one thing.

"And in exchange for that, would you be willing to give up your soul?"

Omendo shuddered. He bowed further so that his head was touching his knees, and at length, he replied. "I'm an old man. I can't do this on my own. I need your help."

I frowned. "I did not ask about that."

He tried to lift himself up from his seat. Omendo grabbed the table by his side, and by leaning upon it, struggled as he stood. Then, his hands shook, and he crashed back into his chair.

The smell of apples wafted over from the neighbouring house.

When he replied, his voice was weary. "Yes."

Fine Soleil had lived next to Omendo. She told me, years later, how she had knocked on his door one day. She had kicked her football into his yard, and after discussing with Rein about the solution, she was coerced into, and bribed by cake, to ask for the ball back.

"Please, sir…" her voice squeaked in fear. Omendo's curved back meant that the old man's face jutted forward, an inch away from her's. Along with his droopy eyes and his crooked teeth, the murky interior of the hut frightened her into stepping backwards. Broken branches and boulders poked out from beneath the ground of his barren front yard, and before she had set off, Fine had devised an escape route just in case. Now, faced with the surly old man, her mind turned blank, and her trembling, shapely legs seemed to have forgotten how to walk.

"Rein…" she looked back at her friends for help. Hiding behind the fence, they scurried once they heard the defeat in Fine's voice. No one liked the old man from the hut, and everyone was terrified of seeing him face to face.

His dazed eyes focused gradually upon Fine. He traced the silhouette of her red hair and the structure of her jaw. "Elsa? El…no, it can't be Elsa."

"Sir, I'm Fine Soleil. Can I come in to get my ball back?"

The word 'Soleil' registered. The old man recoiled, as though bitten by a snake, and stared at Fine with such disgust and rage that Fine was half compelled to dash away from his porch and ask her parents to buy a new football instead.

"I'm…I'm sorry if…if I…" she stammered. She stepped backwards once more, but accidentally tread upon the gravel scattered in front of his door, and slipped. Fine landed on the ground, and with Omendo looming above her, she crawled backwards in terror.

"Soleil, huh?" he spoke through gritted teeth. "That's right, leave. Go away, and tell your rat of a father not to meddle with my business ever again."

Scrambling to her feet, Fine sped away from his front yard, and tumbled back into her house, where Rein and the others were awaiting the news.

"No?" asked Rein.

"…no."

That was all she knew about Omendo. None of the other villagers were able to tell me much more either. I guess that's what happens when you become a recluse: your thoughts are tucked away so securely that no one could understand your actions anymore.

The smell of apples still permeated Fine's house, even after I had killed her parents. Half an apple rolled about on the chopping board, and the pot of apple juice was still boiling. Her parents, Truth and Elsa, if I remember correctly, were slumped over the table, the portrait of a quaint family dinner. If you looked closer, you would notice a thin red line dripping on both their necks, but from afar, nothing seemed to be out of order.

I allowed the fire to continue burning, and explored the rest of the house. I knew from the family pictures on the mantel that the Soleils had two daughters. Both of them should have returned to the house by now. In the fields, the crops have lost their lustre along with sunset, and they seem to be clustered together, in their dull brown coats, to defend themselves from the cold.

"Not in the house, eh?" I muttered to myself. There were tons of hiding spots for a young girl in the house, but none of them contained either of their daughters. I left the house, and surveyed the fields. It's astonishing how easily the scenery changes with the time of day. In the morning, the village had been dazzling, glamorous even, the perfect representation of the rustic countryside. At night, however, desolation and despair seem to have befallen the village. The muddy roads froze in fear, and silhouetted against the moon, the trees and the chimneys were caricatures of monsters, their laden branches were witches' claws.

There was sudden movements in the fields, and in an instant, I found her.

Rein was grovelling at the feet of the crops. One swipe, I thought. One swift move, a stab, a twist of her neck, and it would be all over.

And it was.

She didn't even feel it happen.

She didn't even have time to cry out.

Rein died with her sister's name frozen on her lips. Perhaps she was crying for help, or more likely, she was warning Fine from danger. Either way, she failed to do so.

One more, I thought. One more person, and my job was done. I scrutinised the fields around me. Where would Fine go in this situation? I thought. Being the more athletic between the twins, she would've been able to escape faster than her sister here. No, she had told Rein to hide in the fields, hoping that the crops would be enough to protect her. What about Fine herself, then? Is she somewhere out here as well, biding her time? Or has she dashed across to her nearest neighbour asking for help?

Her nearest neighbour…I eyed the half-collapsed hut about a hundred yards away from the Soleil's house. If Fine had went to find help, I conjectured, Omendo would have been of the closest assistance. Yet would she have overcome her fear of the old man?

However…if she was with Omendo, then I need not worry. I strolled amongst the fields, wiping the blood of my hands with the strands of wheat around me. Dragging my wings on the fertile soil, I sighed softly. It was rare for my missions to have brought me to somewhere so delectable. Having dwelt in the cities, I had grown accustomed to the dirt and the smog that pervaded through every pore of their faces. That was where the filth of mankind gathered, I reflected. Those were the people more willing to make a pact with the devil.

Ten more meters…five more…now seven steps more…I grinned with anticipation. No matter how dull my missions are, how often I groaned about the drudgery that was my job, I could never avoid looking forward to its completion. I suppose this is how humans feel, when their heart pulsates rapidly or when their tremble with excitement. A push of the front door, I thought, my teeth baring with uncontrollable joy, and then…

I spotted her immediately. Hovering over the bedside cabinet, she was shaking and muttering to someone, pleading, almost, for a miracle to happen. My hand enclosed her throat from behind, and she gave off a squeak. She was a mouse of a girl, really. All that gracefulness and bravado from this afternoon had drained by night. I contemplated upon telling her about her sister's untimely death, partly to let her die knowing the truth, partly because, yes, I admit, I do have a sadistic streak towards my victims. Yet before I could provoke her with the news, I let my eyes wander towards the bed that she was facing.

To this day, I still couldn't decide whether or not I regret doing so. Of course, as a demon, I should understands the ramifications of doing so. Of being distracted from my job. Of sympathy.

And yet, without it, without her…think of all the things I could have missed.

So my eyes wandered towards the bed, and I was met with an unpleasant surprise.

Omendo was sprawled on his blanket, dead. His body was cold, and on the back of his hand, the contract was fading.

I still had my grasp around Fine's neck. "What happened?" I hissed.

Fine spasmed, and tried to escape from the room, but I held her in place. "I…I don't know…I just came here, and, and then he…"

Omendo must have died whilst I was murdering Rein. Seeing his mangled body, my appetite for my mission disappeared altogether. There didn't seem to be a point in continuing. The contract between Omendo and I was over, and I was free to consume his soul, despite not having quite completed my task.

I stroked the pendant that hung around Fine's neck. Should I? The old man wouldn't realise whether she had died or not, but did I have a sense of responsibility that compelled me to finish her off? Or maybe just a manic lust for bloodshed?

Slowly, I loosened my grasp from her neck. Maybe not. Gazing at the whimpering child in front of me, the thrill of the chase wore off. She was just a young girl, I thought, insignificant, unassuming, and would probably die without my intervention. Killing her would just be a waste of my efforts.

Assuming my human form as she turned around, I spoke menacingly, "Go away, and never return."

"What…what happened to him?" said Fine. Snot and tears were mingled on her face, and her hair was still coated with dirt from the river bed. Her clothes were drenched with sweat that was accumulated throughout the day, and she looked like a doll that recently washed up the shore.

"He's dead. Now, go," I ordered.

Fine jumped at my voice. "But…but where?"

"I don't care."

Groping her way towards the door, she turned to look at me one last time. Silhouetted against the moon, she looked like a fairy, poised on her toes, ready to alight. A spirit, free to soar among the clouds. And then, she was gone.

She ran towards the fields, where I had left Rein. What a shock she would receive once she gets there. But for now…

I extended my wings, until they filled the cramped room. Scales popped up on my skin, and my teeth enlarged until they resembled wolf fangs. Omendo's soul had been floating above his body, still in a daze from his recent death.

"A deal's a deal," I said. And closed in on him.

It took me ten years to find Fine again, and on that occasion, she was the murderer.

Please rate and review!


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you everyone for the reviews! Hopefully you'll like this chapter as well, as there's a (not so surprising) reveal at the end :).

Chapter 2

Dusk befell the slums of inner city. The grey walls were smeared with graffiti and advertisements for products too good to be true. The citizens shuffled towards their homes, half-within their uneasy slumbers already. Fidgeting, yawning, slouching and frowning, they had their backs towards the spread of lights in the city centre, and went like rats to their respective homes. Smog descended further, subduing the occasional active persons into silence. Situated within the labyrinth, two figures braced themselves by the trees in a forlorn garden, wincing at the cheers and the hoots emitting from the nearby houses. As I approached them, the shorter, younger of the two ducked behind the tree trunk, and shoved his hands deeper into his pockets.

"It's alright, it's him," said the older person. The determination on her face failed to obscure its haggardness, and the tattered shawl she wrapped around her head barely hid her heavily powdered face, or the worn, wrinkled skin beneath it. The house behind me stood quiet at my arrival, but erupted into raucous laughter as soon as I had examined the woman's appearance. Immediately, I understood.

"And what is your demand?" I asked with contempt. A brothel, I thought, and a prostitute. Prostitutes weren't a rarity as customers for my summons, but almost all of their demands were so easy, so trivial, that my involvement was barely necessary. Kill this man, who had taken all my money from me; murder the entire family of this woman who had cheated me: simple events were enough to incite such rage in them, as to summon a supernatural being for help, that it was impossible for me to view them with due respect.

However, this woman before me did not seem to be filled with rage. In fact, besides the obstinacy in her eyes, she was perfectly serene. I began to doubt. Rage, envy, and lust were common motivations for summoning a demon, yet she seemed to embody none of that. "Shall we discuss inside, sir?" she said, with a hint of mischief in her smile.

At the bottom of the garden, I spotted two idle spades, and a mound of overturned soil in the vague shape of a human being. Traces of blood could be seen on the grass, ambiguous clues explaining what had happened. So was this a scene of crime? Murderers asking for help wasn't something new, but then…how does that explain my discomfort at being in their presence?

Once again, the woman posed the suggestion. Reluctantly, I agreed.

Her room was inundated with the scent of perfume. The smell was so strong it nearly blinded me, yet the other two seem to have grown accustomed to the stench. The younger person hovered at the corner of the room, before a grey curtain, and the woman laid down on her threadbare bed. Nothing else inhabited the room, except for a bedside table and a lamp.

"Get me a cup of water, will you?" said the woman. Puzzled, I turned to see the youth disappear wordlessly behind the curtain. A moment later, he returned with a stained cup filled with murky liquid.

"Thank you," she said. She took her time, that woman, in finishing her drink, what with her coughing and wheezing and snivelling. The longer I stayed in that room, the more convinced I was that taking up this task was a mistake.

Impatient, I pressed on. "And what is your demand, Nancy Parker?"

She placed her cup on her bedside table with such tranquillity that the action itself was incompatible with the entire room. As she struggled to sit up and begin her speech, I noticed that the youth had retired to behind the curtains once more.

"That's where he sleeps," she nodded towards the curtains. "When I have customers, I usually tell him to get out into the garden, and then come back to clean up afterwards."

"And your request?" I urged on.

Nancy gazed into the distance, recalling an indistinct memory. She did not notice the urgency in my tone, or if she did, she deliberately ignored it. "You might think that he's my servant or underling, but no, how could I afford that? I mean, look around," she gestured towards the vacancy of the room. "These are everything I own. All that, and him, of course. I own him. He turned up here nine years ago, begging for shelter. If it had been someone else at the door, he might've died on the streets already. But no, I had to be there."

"I'm sorry to interrupt you, but—"

"I took pity on him. Which I shouldn't have. I could barely feed myself back then, let alone the two of us. But then, he was such a puny kid, I can't help but take him under my wing. He reminded me of myself, when I was younger, when I had no choice but to do this…" her eyes glazed over, and all this meandering discourse was starting to get on my nerves.

Nancy wiped her eyes, and continued, "he's a good kid. I know he doesn't look it, but he's been good to me all these years, and I've treated him as well as I could. He runs errands sometimes, when we can't manage to scrape by, and he's good company. He might as well be my own son, if I'm honest, some people've even said we look alike. But then, he had to, he just had to…he didn't mean it, I'm sure you'll understand, he was just completely out of control…he killed someone. Yes, he did!" she shoved the cup towards me. I could just about decipher the traces of blood on its wooden surface, left there by a delicate, slender hand. "He just killed him. Out of the blue. I couldn't even stop it from happening.

We buried the body in the garden just now. No one saw us, I'm sure, but I'm afraid, if someone did see, or if someone found out, then both of us would be in great trouble. He's just a boy, sir, he's barely eighteen, can you imagine him being locked up for the rest of his life just because of a mistake?"

Once again she fell silent. After a while, I stood up. "If you continue digressing, then I'm sorry to say that I believe that we have wasted both our times. Good day."

"I want you to help him." Her request was as abrupt as thunder. Not waiting for elaboration, I raised my hand and pointed towards her forehead. As my eyes glowed, a faint outline of the contract appeared beneath her fringe, and the same pattern was being formed at the back of my hand.

"I want you to turn him into a nobleman. That's the only way he could avoid going down the same path as I did. I want you to give my boy a new identity, and negate everything he's ever done." As she raised her voice, the pattern on her forehead solidified, and even with her layers of makeup, the black mark of a pentagram was visible beneath.

"And in exchange for that, what are you willing to give?" I almost taunted her with this question. Only a handful of humans who contacted me were unaware of the consequences of a contract. A deal with a demon would usually result in one, major price.

"My soul." My blue eyes gleamed with an eerie, purplish light, and the pentagram on her forehead shone with its hellish blackness. For an instant, the whole room was shrouded with a bruised colour, where Nancy Parker's face was twisted with horror at what she had done. And then, the contract was sealed. Nancy fell back onto her bed, her trembling hand tracing the outlines of the contract.

"I am branded for the rest of my life," she sighed.

However, I was distracted. Some of the blood on the cup had stained my finger, but instead of wiping if off on the walls, I decided, in an effort to understand my new protectee, I would taste it. Raising my finger to my mouth, I had inadvertently smelt the metallic odour of the blood, mingled with the cheap, musky scent of the wood. Yet even then, I had realised something was wrong.

Nancy Parker was busy applying more makeup over her contract, and when that failed, she turned to brushing her fringe towards the centre of her forehead. "I see you've lied to me, Nancy," I said.

She froze. "I have not."

"Yes you have. You have lied to me ever since I arrived here, and have perpetrated that lie throughout the contract."

With uncertainty, she lowered the brush, and stared at me with vacant eyes. "Does that mean…the contract…"

"The contract is still valid. The lie did not affect it too a great degree, but if you do wish to fulfil it, I advise you from now on to tell me the truth, the complete truth."

Nancy Parker pondered my words, and as her error struck her, her blank expression transformed into a malicious grin. "Ah, yes. That lie of mine wasn't intentional, of course, it was only for protection. Don't you agree? That it kept him safe?"

"Him?"

She laughed. "Alright, come back in, dear, there's someone I'd like to introduce you to."

The youth entered the room with his head ducked. His baggy clothes encumbered his every move, so that even when he responded to Nancy Parker's beckoning, the hem of his trousers seemed to be dragging him back to the curtains. Brown, filthy hair shrouded his face, and I started to contemplate all the toil I must go through, to correct all the bad habits and bad hygiene bred from years of living in the slums. Nancy, however, was not alarmed by his appearance. She cuddled him immediately, patting his hair and stroking his arched back.

"Tom," she murmured. "I'd like you to meet this gentleman."

Tom turned to face me. He scrutinised the blue hair and blue eyes of my human form, and from the spite in his dark red eyes, I could tell that he had decided to hate me.

"Nice to meet you, Tom. My name is Shade." As I spoke, Tom's eyes widened in disbelief. He stared at me, dumbstruck, a mixture of incredulity and triumph in his face. Joy tugged at the corners of his mouth, which subverted my initial opinions of his looks. In fact, Tom wasn't the hideous, limping creature from my first impression of him. Although his skin had sagged through years of hardship, i noted that his features were unmarred. His ruby eyes were large and limpid, and his full, crimson lips revealed two rows of straight, if slightly yellowed, teeth.

His feminine features were clouded over with his scowl. "And what do you have to do with me?" he countered with a barely audible grunt.

"It's alright, Tom, he knows."

"Knows what?"

"Know that you are not who you pretend to be." My hands darted towards his fringe, where soot and mud fell away to reveal red hair. Tom protested, and tried to defend himself by flailing his arms about, or unclenching my fists. I stood at an arm's distance and resisted his attacks, while further wiping the dirt on his head. "Ah, I see there's one more thing you've tried to hide."

"Get off me!" he shrieked. However, unlike his previous grunt, his voice was shrill and vulnerable.

"Not as tough now, are you?" I smirked.

"That's enough, Shade, let her go," ordered Nancy.

I obeyed. Panting, 'Tom' brushed aside the strands of hair covering his face, which resulted in more soot getting into his eyes, or being smeared on his face. "I need your comb," he muttered.

"You're not having it until you wash your hair properly, missy," said Nancy.

The youth straightened his hair with his nails, to which I interfered. "You're going to need a makeover to become a nobleman," I commented. At first, he tried to jerk his hands away, but under my firm grasp, he had no choice but to surrender. "A haircut, a hot bath, scraping all those layers of dirt off you would take ages, let alone cleaning the dirt under your nails. It'll take ages for me to make you look like a presentable young man, or should I say, young lady?"

She tried to maintain whatever dignity that remained. Straightening her back, she gazed upwards at me defiantly, the top of her head barely scraping my nose. "I know all that already. There's no need to rub it in. So you're actually going to help me?"

"Obviously." My eyes narrowed at Nancy Parker. Did she perhaps tell the girl that I was a demon, or was that a secret between the two of us? Nancy shook her head in reply, but I still maintained my suspicions towards the youth.

"I couldn't believe it," she muttered.

"Very well. I've already made a deal with Nancy Parker over there, but if you continue to wreck havoc or create trouble in any way, I can't help you. So then, are you willing to cooperate with me?" I addressed the girl before me.

She spat in my face.

"Tom!" shouted Nancy.

"Well then," I tried to remain composed. "Can you at least tell me your real name?"

She spat at me again.

"You've given me no choice." Still holding firm control over hers, my hands slid down to her arms, and began twisting them. Eyes widening in shock, she kicked and spat and kneed me in the groin, but I persisted. Her twig-like arms were bent in such unnatural angles, that even I started to hesitate on following through. Demons do possess superhuman strength, and it was possible that if I wasn't careful, I could break both of her arms right there. Lucid tears cleared pristine pathways down her face, revealing the innocence in her countenance that she had tried to mask for the past nine years.

"Fine!" she screamed. I stopped tormenting her, but as a precaution, I kept my grasp on her.

"And your name?"

In an effort to hide the fact that she was crying, she covered her eye with her fringe. "I told you already, Fine. Fine Soleil."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

You may ask: didn't you recognise her after she told you her name?

However, you have forgotten. It had been nine years since I had last saw her, and even then she had been a child, a young girl whose appearance had changed drastically since. Besides, there were many missions during those nine years to distract me, hundreds of men and women with bizarre desires, which keep me occupied, that I had soon forgotten the little girl I chose to spare that night.

Therefore, when Fine Soleil told me her name, to me it was no more than a name. A unique name, of course, but merely a name. No implications were involved in it, and no premonition warned me about her. Fine Soleil were just words attached to the girl I must now look after.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

We were riding a carriage away from the city. Nancy Parker, Fine's 'guardian', was slouched by her side, fast asleep while drooling over her shoulder. The carriage jolted, and Nancy Parker stooped forward, her forehead banging against the frame of the window. Cheap powder fell in flakes from her face, and the pentagram was partially revealed. I winced, stroking the same mark that was on the back of my hand, which was now concealed with a white glove.

"We're going to the countryside. There's a mansion there which I wish you to inherit."

Fine's eyes widened. "A…a what?"

"Of course, it isn't yours. It belongs to an invalid old lady whose daughter ran away years ago."

"And…and we could just go there and take it?"

I smirked, and recalled the events of the past week, where I had investigated the backgrounds of every single elderly person holding a title. It was mundane work, reading through articles and documents of wrinkled, stooping counts and earls and barons, and learning about their runaway children. Fortunately, I found our target quick enough.

"The old lady's daughter in question resembles you." I held up a portrait of the young women, and Fine studied her vacant expression framed by bright red hair.

"Your task, is to pretend to be her daughter, and are thus next in line to the estate."

Fine stared at me doubtfully. "Are you sure she'll believe me?"

"Rest assured, I've already bribed the servants and altered the documents to make it seem more genuine. Of course, there may be a few skeptics, but those I can take care of." To further placate her, I flashed a rare, sincere smile.

It failed. Leaning back, Fine stared out of the window, and muttered, "I don't like lying to people I don't know."

"Well you'll just have to learn to. According to the doctors, the old lady only has a week to live, so you won't have to keep up the pretence for long. Think of it as comforting a dying soul instead."

"What?"

"She'll be glad to die believing that her daughter had redeemed herself by allowing you to return. Anyway, if you don't inherit the mansion, it would just fall in the hands of another wealthy nobleman who preys on the vulnerable. If I were you, I'd much rather myself being the successor instead of such people."

Ambivalent, Fine drew her coat around her and remained silent. The carriage jolted once more, and Nancy Parker tilted her head on another direction, so that her drool stained the sleeves of Fine's coat. It was a new coat, too. I had ordered Nancy Parker to buy Fine some new, fashionable dresses in place of her baggy clothes, and to scrub Fine's face as clean as possible.

Scrutinising the appearance of the girl before me, I nodded approvingly at the straight red hair tied in two buns, and the pale, meek face that exuded meek innocence. It was obvious to anyone who saw her that Fine was a girl borne from poverty and hardship, but at least she looked presentable.

"Have you practised your speech yet?" I asked.

She grunted in reply. "Or have you misplaced the sheet I gave you a few days ago?" I ventured again.

"Can't 'member it," she muttered.

"Well then try."

"I can't. It's too long."

My brows furrowed at the reply. Too long?

"Perhaps we'll shorten it then. How about: My dearest grandma, if only we could meet sooner."

"My dearest grandma…" she murmured.

"Mama has been so sorry for running away. She has missed you ever since that fateful day, but her shame has prevented her from returning to your side. But now, grandma, I have returned in her place, to nurse you, to love you, and to compensate for all those years of loneliness when mama had abandoned you," I dictated.

After contemplating for a while, Fine asked, "What if she doesn't die in a week? Or if she was so happy at seeing me that she decided to live longer?"

"Well, I'll just have to take care of that."

Her bangs covered her eyes. "Shall we continue?" I said. "And then, you'll say, 'I promise you, grandma, that I will never leave you. In fact, I would remain at the estate, and fulfil my duties as its sole inheritor.' "

I had barely finished my sentence when Fine shoved open the carriage door and plunged into the open air. Losing her rock, Nancy Parker slid down the carriage, and the loss of balance shocked her into vigour. Fine continued to fall. The dirt right beneath the carriage was tightly-packed, and despite the grass shielding it, it would still be as hard as concrete. Two, no, three broken ribs, a broken arm, possible damage to the skull, and delay to the entire journey itself…

Extending my arm, I managed to grab her just before she hit the ground. Gasping, Fine's upper body flailed alongside the carriage's movement, and as punishment, I let her stay there.

"Why did you decide to open the door?" I shouted against the wind.

"You're a bastard!" she shouted back.

I deliberately relaxed my arm, so that she dropped further, and her nose was inches away from the fields. A shriek resulted, and as Nancy Parker made sense of her surroundings, she partook in the conversation as well.

"What are you doing, Shade? Pull her back!" shouted Nancy, as she embraced Fine and tried to tug her back into the carriage. Yet, as I had guessed correctly, she wasn't strong enough to help Fine on her own. "Give me a hand, will you?"

I relaxed my arm again, and this time, both of them screamed. Supporting herself by holding on to the side of the carriage, Fine had to duck her head as to not get hit by the wheels, and Nancy Parker's face, in exertion, twisted into a most amusing expression.

"Get me back in you bastard!" Fine screamed again.

"Bastard you say?"

"Yes, you son of a bitch!"

"Aren't you afraid that I'll drop you completely?"

"You won't! I know you won't!"

She had me there. Part of my contract was to protect Fine, and losing my grip of her was a direct violation of it. That was her ultimate trump card against me, that as long as Nancy Parker is alive, I am unable to harm her in any way. Yet, does Fine know about this, or did Nancy Parker neglected to tell her this, just like how she did not tell Fine that I am a demon?  
Either way, Fine was way to close to the ground for my liking. In one heave, I pulled both girls back into the depths of the carriage. Sweating and shaken, Fine's hair was dishevelled, and her red locks fell across her face. "…bastard," she muttered as I shut the carriage door.

"Yes?" I replied.

"You're a bastard"

"Why?"

Fine swallowed. "You said you'd kill the old lady if she didn't die soon."

"And your issue with that is…?'

She stared at me in disbelief. "Don't you feel bad about that? Don't you see any problem with killing a stranger?"

"I would only do so if she failed to die within, say, a month, or even two months, me killing her is merely a hypothetical situation. Furthermore, I only do so for your advantage."

"But still, killing her, it's, it's even worse than lying to her."

My face darkened. "You are making my situation very difficult."

"Like I care."

"Fine," Nancy Parker interjected. "Listen to him. It's your only chance of living a comfortable life. And I went all the way to arrange this for you."

I eyed the prostitute suspiciously, but Fine seemed to be comforted by her advice. At least, she wasn't making a scene, but chose to be sullen.

"Perhaps it would be better if I said everything for you," I mused. "I could explain that you are too stricken with grief to speak. Does that sound alright, Fine?"

And that was what we decided on. For the rest of the journey, Fine remained as still as a statue, her vacant eyes observing the winding passage that was surrounded by farmyards and wild forest. The girl is too truculent for my taste, I thought. And yet, with the constrictions imposed on me by the contract, it would take me ages to tame her into a proper lady. Eyeing the pair sitting opposite to me, I pondered on the trouble ahead, and wondered if all my efforts were really worth it.

The maid servant was leading us to the old lady's chamber. "Try to look miserable, would you?" I hissed at Fine.

The servant looked back dubiously, and I smiled at her in return. Trailing beside me, Fine was still sullen and quiet, which was a good start, yet it was far from the grieving grand daughter I had in mind. Of course, I had known that the old lady was half-blind, and was too sick to notice any discrepancies, however…as we entered the room, we noticed several young men and women crowding around the bed. A coughing old woman was buried beneath covers and covers of white blankets, and a night cap was tugged down to shield her eyes. A mere skeleton, I thought, good. Just as planned.

The young men and women stood in a tight pack, like a group of hunched-back wolves, faceless and avaricious. "Who is she?" one of them said.

"Another fraud, my dear brother."

"You're just here for the money!"

"GO away!"

"No one wants you here."

"Greed is a sin."

"May I introduce myself?" a complacent young man stepped forward, extending his hand. "I am the second cousin of Lady Farwell, and the inheritor of her estate. Perhaps you would like to wait, as visitors, in the Grand Hall instead?"

As they growled and squabbled amongst each other, I stared at them in contempt. They were no more than a wake of vultures, preying on the dead. Sure, Fine and I were only there with the same objective in mind, yet we weren't related to the dying lady by blood. Surely her true relatives would be at the very least, sincerely pitying the invalid.

Fine had navigated her way through the hostile crowd, and reached the bed. "Here, great-aunt, here's another crook claiming that she's Harriet's daughter," one of the young women jeered.

With her back towards me, Fine folded back the brim of the old lady's night cap, as though nursing a glass doll. Sensing the sudden movement, the old lady's eyes widened feebly, and at once they located Fine.

"Harriet?" she wheezed. Fine froze. Her previously dishevelled hair was tied back into two buns, which I had found out, courtesy to one of the maid servants, that Harriet used to sport when she was younger. The vultures at the old lady's bedside were suddenly struck by the resemblance, and bared their teeth to hiss.

"Oh, Harriet you're back." Tears soaked the old lady's wrinkled face, and her crooked mouth laboured to stretch out in a grin. A pair of trembling hands reached to Fine's sleeves, and clung onto her pale, slender fingers. 'It's you, Harriet."

"No it's not, it's a trap" a shout emitted from the crowd. I frowned, and sauntered over to stand behind the disruptor. If necessary, one quick jab would do the trick, and then he would never shout ever again, I thought.

Stunned, the old lady squinted her eyes in order to see Fine more clearly. "Harriet? But, but aren't you…"

"I am sorry to tell you that Harriet has passed away," my sonorous voice echoed throughout the room. "The young lady standing before you, is her only daughter, who I have taken under my wing."

"Harriet! Oh, no, no…" wailed the old woman. From where I stood, the white blankets formed a bizarre, white dome, trapping the old lady's body in an eternal oblong. "Not so soon, my dear Harriet."

"It's a trap!" someone else shouted.

Suddenly, Fine started to act without my direction. The crowd of young men and women seem to sense my apprehension, and a hushed commotion grew.

Diligently, Fine knelt down at the old lady's bedside, careful to keep her grasp on her bony hands. The wrinkled face, glistening with snot and tears, turned sideways, and gazed at Fine with warmth and confusion. "Is it true?" the old lady gasped. "Are you really not Harriet's daughter?"

Don't mess this up, I wanted to scream at Fine. This was our chance at impressing the old bitch, this was the moment where she could launch her speech to dispel all the doubts that the vultures dropped, like pestilence, onto the bed. At that moment, I wanted more than anything to be in Fine's place, so I could recite my chosen, polished words without mistake, something that I knew Fine would definitely mess up, whether accidentally or deliberately to spite me. Say it, I thought, say the right words!

Bowing her head, the left side of Fine's face touched the old lady's chest. Heaving, the dying patient's lower lip trembled in anticipation, like a dog salivating at the treat in its owner's hand. "Harriet…?"

"I'm here," Fine replied. Silver streams flowed from her crimson eyes, down the shirt of the old lady. Sensing her tears, the old lady's hands folded over Fine's head, and sighed in relief. In response, Fine burst into tears. She clutched onto the blankets and wept, as the old lady stroked her hair lovingly, murmuring words of joy to her fake grand daughter. Smothered silence pervaded the room, as though in awe of the love in display before them.

I don't know whether her tears were an act, or whether she was truly crying in pity for the old lady. All I know is that later that day, the old lady died blissfully in her sleep, still stroking the red, silky hair that was mingled with sorrow and lucid tears.

Fine was still kneeling there, long after everyone else had left the room. The shrivelling corpse was scheduled to be buried the next dawn. Fortunately, the old lady had, in excitement, rewritten her will days before Fine and I first turned up at the mansion, leaving everything to a granddaughter she had never even seen. Fine was now the sole inheritor of the estate, and any pleading, negotiating or threatening from the young men and women by the bedside would not change that fact.

After observing the farce for a while, I became impatient. "See," I said to Fine. "There was no need to worry. Everything's all gone according to plan, even without my intervention. Think of what would happen if you had jumped out of the carriage instead. All your unpleasant 'cousins' would be wrangling over her grave."

Slowly, Fine lifted her head and stood up. "Shall we leave?" I asked. Nodding, she preceded me to the door.

"And Fine? Good work," I said. She paused at the door, and turned around.

Anger would have been insufficient to describe her gaze. Fine turned around, and stared at me with such intensity, as though all the injustice and pain she had suffered in silence in the past years were unleashed, and directed at me. In surprise, I stepped back. Her baleful glance then mitigated, and she left the room.

Next chapter:

"Now, let's try fainting."

"What?" she stared in disbelief.

"You heard me. You have to learn how to faint."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

I opened the French windows that overlooked the garden. The fresh, morning air rushed in to purge the drowsiness of the dining room, and at once I felt satisfied. A long, oak table was strewn in the middle of the room behind me, and a servant was busy laying the table, adjusting the pristine plates and cutlery to the exact angle. This form of luxury, I thought, is what I deserve.

It had been four days since the old lady who had owned the mansion died. Since Fine was still underage, all the property she inherited was held in a trust fund, to be received by her once she turned into an adult. That I didn't mind. The money would belong to Fine eventually, no questions asked. Even if there were questions asked, well, as long as my contract hasn't been fulfilled, I am still obliged to deal with such peskiness. In what way, well, that Fine need not know.

"Good morning Fine," I said as she entered the room. Still in mourning attire, Fine slouched at the table and grabbed at the nearest basket, filled to the brim with different kinds of buns, croissants, and pastries.

"Good morning," she replied.

"Well I see your manners have improved," I said. "However…" A brisk slap across her wrist aroused a faint shriek. "What did I tell you about table manners?"

"I'm not supposed to use my hands," she replied glumly.

"And instead, what are you supposed to do?"

"Ask a servant for help," she duly said.

"Good." As a reward, I placed several pastries on the plate in front of her. She prodded them with a fork, flattening them absentmindedly.

Ever since the old lady died, Fine had taken up the role of a grieving grandchild perfectly, too perfectly. Four days had passed, and Fine still appeared gloomy and miserable, with barely the energy to behave in the recalcitrant manner that I had excepted. Instead, she was as docile as a school child, as though her tears had washed away that unruly youth who grew up at a brothel. This, though was a pleasant change, unnerved me.

"How is your breakfast?" I asked.

Chewing on the corner of her toast, Fine asked, "Where's Nancy?"

"Nancy is resting in her room."

"Why isn't she having breakfast with me?"

"She's feeling unwell."

"Oh," she said, and continued chewing at the crust. "How long has she been unwell?"

I frowned at the constant questioning. In truth, Nancy Parker wasn't the healthiest person around. The last time I saw her, she was lethargic and drowsy, unwilling to move away from her bed. Perhaps she was going down the same path as the old lady who owned the mansion. Perhaps that was why she was willing to risk her soul for my assistance.

"Not long. I've asked for a doctor. He'll arrive this afternoon."

Hesitant, Fine tore at the toast, so that the remaining part dropped to the floor. "Tell me the truth. How is she?"

"That is not for me to judge."

"Liar."

"Fine, I propose that you leave this matter to the professionals—"

"Bastard."

I stepped closer to the table. "I think you'll find," I said. "That young ladies do not say that word."

Her sullen expression darkened, and she tapped the tips of her fork against the plate. The basket of filled with bread was now almost empty, save for a croissant that had quickly lost its lustre. The newly opened jam jar was now half emptied, and there was a smear of jam, butter, chocolate and other stickiness on her several knives. I wonder how Nancy Parker managed to feed her, and furthermore, how she had managed to remain skinny, yet ruddy.

"If I die, who gets my stuff?" Fine said.

I started. She can't be ill as well, can she? "Well, since you do not have a will, and are not married, all your property would be given to the next of kin, namely one of your 'cousins'. I expect they would squabble over it."

"And if I marry?"

"Well then, it would all go to your husband."

Contented with tapping her fork, Fine started to chew at its tips. She narrowed her eyes to stare at me. "My husband," she repeated.

I had to hide my smirk at her reaction. Did she expect that I had arranged for all this, and even go to the lengths of marrying her, just to receive some poor human's estate? I admit, it was a rather lovely mansion, but its ownership was of no importance to me. Even so, the mere idea of marrying Fine, or even proposing to Fine, was laughable, and kept me entertained for the rest of the day.

How I wish I _had_ tried to marry her. She would refuse, definitely, suspecting some ulterior motive of mine, but still, if I had persuaded her to marry me then, if only, if only…

"I want to write a will," she declared.

"Today?"

"Today," she affirmed.

"I would send for a lawyer to arrange that, Fine, if it weren't for your lessons I had planned for this afternoon."

"Lessons?" she exclaimed.

"Yes, lessons. Lessons on reading, writing, singing, sewing, etiquette, dancing, and so on, so that you could be equipped to become a perfect young lady."

"You never said anything about lessons!"

"That was while you were grieving. I made allowances for you, but it's time you start to make progress in this business. One of these days, you would be invited to a party, a gathering, or even a date—"

She spluttered at that. Specks of milk covered the table cloth, the chairs, and the sleeves of Fine's dress, which she tried to wipe away immediately. "Yes, now that you've become an heiress, you are seen as desirable. And looking presentable is not enough for a young lady. You've to act presentable as well, and your current behaviour," I glared at the table, half the toast on the floor, and the crumbs that she was subtly brushing off her dress, "is unacceptable."

Fine chastened at my words. "Well, what do you then recommend?"

Seeing her so solemn surprised me, but on the other hand, my malicious side took over, as I yearned to see her rebelliousness kept in check. My mind ran through the several possibilities: sewing would be frustrating and tedious, dancing a hazard to whoever taught her, and singing, well, I would rather not test that. Suddenly, I recalled a certain page on the well worn manual for teaching young ladies, and settled on the daintiest, most out of character and most humiliating exercise for Fine.

"Now, let's try fainting."

"What?" she stared in disbelief.

"You heard me. You have to learn how to faint."

We were alone in the grand hall, which jutted out from the building, and was only connected to the rest of the rooms via a long, winding passage. I had excavated all the furniture that had previously cluttered the spacious room, so that with the windows letting in the afternoon sunlight, and the wind bringing in the scent of the various flowers in the garden, I began to understand the allure of a room so distant from the rest of the the mansion. The lamps placed sparsely around the room flickered, and accompanied with the new, cheaply bought vases and the echoing walls, exuded a sense of peacefulness and homeliness.

That, however, was ruined by the red-haired girl in front of me.

"You're joking," she exclaimed.

"No I'm not. Now, do as I say."

"You've got to be—how is that even reasonable?"

"It doesn't matter if it's reasonable or not, it is necessary for a dignified young lady to be able to faint like one when required. And stop contradicting me."

Pouting, Fine tugged at the hem of her dress, and seemed to be on the verge to making a fuss. "Faint, eh?"

"Yes, faint."

"You promise me that you'll get that lawyer I was talking about this morning, right?"

Startled by the repetition of such a request, I tried to sustain my stern frown. "Yes, yes, alright."

"Right after I do this?"

"Right after you faint satisfactorily."

"And then you'll let me do anything I want?"

"We'll see about that."

Deciphering my words, Fine appeared to be cautiously satisfied with my promise. "You'll ask for a lawyer, ok?"

"Why do you insist on such an arrangement?" Yes, I admit I was curious. The girl was healthy despite her melancholy, I had a doctor check at least that much, but her prudence concerning her possible death disturbed me. Several answers popped up in my mind, but I wasn't quite sure which was the correct one. A hidden ailment that even the doctors couldn't determine? A possible threat lurking in the corner? Or merely an act of kindness towards her guardian, masking a possible desire for death?

The image of a red-haired girl, poised on her toes like a fairy, flashed in my mind. Was this her? I frowned. It's not impossible, they are the same age, but if so, could this be relevant to this urge for a will?

That was the first time I had suspected Fine. I had doubted her origins, mistrusted her actions and thought she might be a two-faced fraud, but this was the first time I had considered that the two of us had a connection in the past. And this suspicion I quickly cast away, in favour of indulging her until my contract ended.

"Faint, right?" she muttered again. Crossing her eyes, she tried her best to imitate the facial expressions of a drunken man, and slowly, with her arms windmilling backwards, leaned back towards the floor, bending her knees first, then, as soon as she sat down on the floor, flopped for a while, and lay still. After a while, she jumped up and asked eagerly, "Was that good?"

I tried to suppress my laugh. I really did try. It wasn't my fault that I burst out laughing once I saw her sincere expression. "Did you really think that's how fainting looks?"

She blushed. "Well…well you show me! I bet you can't do it either."

"I do not need to learn how to faint. I'm not a burgeoning young lady."

"Well you demonstrate then. Show me how it's done properly."

"I'll have to ask for a governess for you," I replied haughtily, not wanting to damage my image in front of her. I could faint if I like, but fainting in order to amuse her? No way.

"Well I did what you asked me to do, now will you ask for a lawyer?"

"I said a satisfactory faint, not a comical one."

She swore again.

"Just out of interest, what do you plan on writing in your will?" I asked.

Sulking, she ignored my words and sat hunched in a corner. Uncooperative once again, I thought, and bad for my plans for her. Eyeing the windows that flanked the room, I soon began to fear that Fine may fling them open and dash out, and though it would barely take me ten seconds to retrieve her, it may put ideas in her mind. And that, was bad as well.

Sighing, I reached for the telephone. At my murmurs, Fine turned halfway back in interest, but still kept her back to me, as indication that she was still sulking. I put down the phone with a click, and coughed to gain her attention.

"It's been arranged. They won't be able to arrive until next morning, but they have the documents prepared."

I could tell she was overjoyed, but she concealed it with a contemptuous smirk. Barely. It was a call for victory, albeit a meagre one, and this declaration annoyed me to no end. This was a small triumph for her, in her petty mind, yet it was also a triumph that could lead to future, greater successes, something which I was more than eager to bar from her.

"Shall we move on?" I walked, stoney-faced, towards the grand piano where several music sheets lay ready.

"Can't we do something I want to do?" she asked.

"For example?"

"Sword fighting." The words were uttered like hailstones. A hostile frown crept up her face, only to be suppressed by her waning control over her facial expressions.

"Why would you be interested in sword fighting?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I want to do football, but I don't think you'll let me."

"No, I won't. And I would not allow sword fighting either. Now, come over to the piano. I want you to learn the basics first."

The hostility in her expression did not mitigate at my words. If possible, her countenance only darkened, and a murderous aura emanated from her. No, I thought, I wouldn't relent this time. I have set up a bad precedent with the lawyers, but this time, we're doing it my way.

"Come along now, stop frowning." I patted the piano seat to beckon her. Instead, she returned to her corner, her sulking more intense than before. "The same trick isn't going to work twice with me," I said. "Come here, and start playing."

Fine's stubbornness returned. "Come now," I said. Still, she didn't move.

I hated her then. I hated how changeable she was, how difficult she was to control. She was just a human being. And yet she was making my life less and less tolerable. Her smirk, her frown, her hunched back all bothered me, and the most insufferable part was that I knew she was doing this on purpose, she was torturing me, because the more time I had to spend with her, the faster I wished my mission to end, and I could only do so by spending eve more time with her.

I still hate her now, to some degree. Her stubbornness, for example, caused a great grievance for me.

Smash! My head whipped back to see Fine's arm still outstretched, a look of shock and bemusement on her face. Two inches to my left, and now sliding down to the floor, were shards of the vase I had placed at the corner table, directly behind Fine. If I my instincts weren't as refined, say, if I were a human, I would've suffered a direct hit. I envisioned Fine hovering over my bleeding, unconscious face, and I saw red.

"To your room."

Shaking, Fine tucked her culpable hand behind her dress, and her lips formed the beginnings of the word 'no'.

"GO TO YOUR ROOM, NOW!" I screeched. She obeyed, darting towards the heavy oak doors, and across the connecting corridor.

I have time to hurt her if I want to, I thought, I could easily intercept her in the corridor, and beat her senseless. I could easily retract my contract with Nancy Parker, only to have some unfathomable consequence befall on me sometime afterwards. I was washed over with fury, and it didn't help that all my plans for the afternoon were ruined.

Bastard. That's what she is. A fucking bitch.

I picked up the shards. The vase was a coarse specimen that was bought at a second hand market, not a loss, not a loss at all. And yet, once I lay all its verdant pieces on the table, did the motive of her actions dawn on me: it was a test.

It had to be some sort of a test. I was far from forcing her into her lessons, and as far as she knew, as long as she continued with her obstinacy, she would've had her way. It could be a show of anger, but why risk accidentally killing me, barely a week after becoming an heiress, with her wealth still insecure and her status yet to be affirmed?

No, she was testing me. Fine Soleil had suspected that something was wrong from the start, and she knew that I would escape from her attack unscathed. As for the extent of my injuries, well, I had demonstrated that to her well. Her shocked expression hovered in my mind, until I replaced it with a picture of her, humbled, accepting an ultimate defeat.

It seems that Fine was much more threatening than I thought. I had given her a clue by avoiding the unforeseeable vase just now, but she had provided me with a hint in return. If you're planning something, Fine Soleil, just remember, two can play at this game.

Author's Note: Hope that ending didn't seem too sinister! Next chapter:

As she shrieked, the horse leapt off the cliff, and down the endless chasm beyond it…I made sure I had my arm around Fine, but the carriage kept falling, falling, falling…


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks for the reviews, guys! Hopefully you'll enjoy this chapter as well.

Chapter 5

It didn't take long for Fine to sign her will. A two hours' long closed door discussion with her lawyer (more specifically, the one I appointed for her), and the deal was completed. The short, neatly-tucked man opened the door, his stern face facing the end of the corridor where I stood waiting, a briefcase in hand. Behind him, I caught a glimpse of Fine's red hair bobbing up and down as she paced around the room, and then the door was closed.

"Well?" I demanded.

The lawyer waited until he was seated safely within the carriage to answer me. Rubbing the back of his hand, he leaned back against the cushioned seat, staring vacantly at the lush foliage that crowded over the front door of the mansion. Impatient, I rapped the door of the carriage to gain his attention. However, uncharacteristic of a lawyer, instead of answering sharply like a professional, he remained dazed.

"It's a wonderful estate," he said.

"I know."

"Lots of money in it, too."

"Yes."

"A whole fortune. One wouldn't have to work for the rest of one's life if they gain ownership of this."

"And?"

Dreamily, he replied, "She's leaving it all to her guardian, Nancy Parker."

"Has she?"

"All this, to some ragged, shallow woman who couldn't even appreciate its beauty."

"I see. And there weren't signs that Fine was against this arrangement?"

"The girl? No, she was perfectly cooperative. Strong willed. Of course, sentimental, but I wouldn't imagine her doing this against her own accord. Then again, you should know her better than I do." He glanced at me suspiciously, sizing me up.

"Nancy Parker is her only living relation," I stated.

The lawyer retorted, "I believe the truth to be the contrary."

"Her closest living relation," I corrected, "And the only one she would trust."

"Yes," he coughed, "about that. Her other relatives have arranged a meeting next week, which, I believe, would not be in favour for the young lady."

"Deal with it then," I said. The lawyer I was speaking to was part of the firm that represented the old lady who previously owned the estate. I bought them by paying a greater salary, so that they wouldn't be lured away by the others. Allies are surprisingly easy to obtain once you have the right resources.

There would be lawsuits, challenging Fine's right to the inheritance. A lengthy and weary battle, I foresee it to be, but not insurmountable. A few 'accidents', a few twists of the truths would probably be sufficient.

I bade the lawyer farewell, and reentered the mansion. Fine was still in the drawing room, her ink-stained fingers stroking the window frame. "Is he gone?"

"Your lawyer, Mr. Montgomery, has left."

"And the will, it'll work now, right?"

I nodded. The sunlight, filtered by the window, cast striking diagonals across her face. Her eyes shone like a jewel, blood red and vibrant. "You had a long talk with him."

"Yes, yes I did."

"About me?"

"About the complexities of upcoming procedures with which you need not be concerned."

She seemed to understand. Fine shifted her position on the window seat, and perched on the edge, taking a deep breath of the fresh spring air. I had ordered new flower bulbs to be planted around the house, so that they could bloom by the time summer arrives. It would be unbecoming of me to actually participate in gardening, but being able to see the different flowers and herbs blossom, and to be in charge of their growth, was good enough for me in my current position.

Sighing, Fine curled up on the seat. From where I stood, it almost appeared as though she was praying to the tilled soil and oak trees that she overlooked. Even her lips were trembling, as if she were uttering words of devotion, but I knew that couldn't be true. Nancy Parker didn't bring her up as a devotee to any religion. As far as she was concerned, shelter and food was all she required, and Nancy Parker could only get that from money, not any god.

It was refreshing to see Fine so subdued. She stayed in that position for a while, with only her mouth moving, as though she was petrified by some ghost that lurked beyond my sight.

"Fine," I said finally. "It's time for your lessons."

She stretched her back, her lanky form extending until she knelt upright, still facing away from me. Her hair, which was tied into a bun this morning, was now dishevelled, and tufts of hair now hung around her ears, like the end of a scarf. Annoyed, I stepped forward, wanting to drag her out of this trance.

"There's somewhere I'd like to go." Before I got to her, she finally spoke.

"Where?"

"There's a park nearby that I heard the servants mention. I'd like to see it."

"Right before your lesson? Can't you wait until afterwards?"

Slamming her hand on the window sill, she restrained herself from shouting back. I could see how hard she tried, the fury alive in her eyes, but she kept her mouth taut and her brow furrowed. Her hand clenched the velvet armrest, and after a while, she replied, "Yes. I'll wait."

When she unclenched her hand, I saw the deep prints left behind that could not be removed for days.

Obedient was how I would describe her following behaviour. Eerily obedient, as if by signing her will, she had signed away her previous indulgent self, and transformed into a proper young lady. I searched for answers to this from her expression, and all I could find beneath her peaceful demeanour were anxious glances towards the door. She was anticipating something, I thought, but what? The park? But what would happen at the park?

Cautiously, I replayed previous scenes of my interactions with Fine. I had scarcely left her sight, and even then, I made sure she was secure in either her bedroom or her study, with no means of escape and no means of communicating with anyone I couldn't trust. There was no way Fine could have prepared a trap of some kind for me at the park, or later. Still, I remained suspicious of her. As I had suspected, there was more to Fine than what met the eye.

Eventually I relented. I had no grounds to reject her, and despite my authority and power over her, well, was it really necessary to refuse? I might even learn something new about Fine, by finding out the reason behind her insistence on going.

It was a lovely place, it really was, satisfactory even for me, among all the gardens and fields and scenery I've encountered. But Fine wouldn't leave the carriage.

"Well, here we are," I announced. "Now what would you like to do?"

"Just keep on driving," she ordered the driver. We rode along the entire winding dirt path, and still Fine was unwilling to leave the carriage.

"Are you telling me, that you've insisted on coming all the way here, just so we could ride inside the carriage? Wouldn't you prefer to walk?" I said exasperatedly.

"I'm tired from all the sewing and dancing lessons you gave me. I want to sit."

Stubborn, stubborn girl. We continued in this fashion, until the sky started to grow dark. Flocks of birds descended from the purple skies onto the trees, and even the driver appeared to be uneasy. I couldn't blame him. Who wouldn't be so, after driving for hours on end?

Fine didn't seem to be as restive. When I alerted her to the time, she simply replied, "Tell the driver to take a rest by the lake."

He duly did so, and we were alone, stationary. We were parked near a cliff, the precipice looming over a yawning, bottomless pit. Silhouetted against the sky, it had a mournful air. I sighed, until I realised that Fine was facing the other direction, observing how the driver was gazing at his own reflection in the lake.

"Don't you want to enjoy the view?" I asked her.

"I did," she said. "I've heard the servants speak of this place, but it didn't turn out to be as impressive as I thought it would be."

"Hmph." A scurrying rat leapt at the edge of the cliff and disappeared beneath it. "So you don't think this is beautiful?"

"I mean, I don't like it as much as I thought I would."

"Why not?"

She shrugged. I suggested, "Do you have some other place in mind? Some other park that you're comparing with this?"

The tufts of hair tucked behind her ear jolted, but the rest of her stayed immobile. "Maybe."

"Where?"

"Where?"

"Where's the most beautiful place you've ever seen?"

She pondered on the question for a while. "There's one I remember."

"Would you care to elaborate?"

"It's a remote place. You wouldn't even know about it. But I can assure you, it's beautiful. I can't describe it to you because I'm bad at describing things, but, yeah."

"Is it your hometown?"

She jumped. Fine whipped round to stare at me, and with her hands grabbing mine forcefully, she uttered, "How did you know?"

"Just a gut feeling of mine," I smiled sardonically. "Now will you let my hands go."

Only then did she notice that she was holding my hands. Hesitating on whether to release them or not, she squeezed my hands twice. "Have you been there?"

"Hmm?"

"Have you been to…to where I grew up?"

At that point, I was still partially shrouded in ignorance. I suspected that I may have encountered Fine before, but who she really was, where she came from, I couldn't recall. She could have been raised in the gutter for all that mattered to me. Still, I replied, "Well, as you said, it's a far, remote place. I don't think I've ever visited it before. You know," I continued testily, "You haven't really told me about your past."

"Does it matter?"

"No, not really. Your current identity is all that matters now, but I'd like to know more about you."

She squeezed my hands twice again, but kept silent.

"I'd like to visit your home town someday, if it's as beautiful as you say it is."

Timidly, she peered at me through her fringe. "You, you would?"

"I would be honoured."

A small gasp was emitted from her. Just any ordinary gasp, but later I would compare it to a drowning girl's gasp for breath, because of what happened afterwards. But at that very moment, illuminated by the dying sun, Fine gasped and I saw the tears in her eyes.

"Well, when we get back, maybe we could," she murmured shakily.

"Maybe we could."

She was hesitating again. But then, she gave my hand one last squeeze, and leapt out of the carriage.

"I want to feed the horses," was all she left behind.

The grazing horses raised their heads when Fine approached them. She nudged carrots which she had kept hidden in her dress to their mouths, yet they refused to even acknowledge the snacks. "C'mon, eat, you idiots," she muttered.

The one on the left haughtily turned her head away and stamped her hooves. "Here," I pried one carrot from Fine's hands, and guided them towards its mouth. "This is how you feed them.

Satisfied with the carrots, the old mare allowed Fine to stroke her mane. There was another horse back at the stables, called Regina, whom I was strangely fond of. She was a bright horse, albeit old, and I would have liked to take her for a ride someday. As if reading my thoughts, the horse we fed nuzzled against the palm of my hand, detaching herself from Fine and successfully upsetting the latter.

"Let's go home," she said as she climbed back into the carriage.

I turned to ask for the driver, but Fine held me back. "No, let him rest for a while. We'll wait."

Yet when I locked both the doors shut, the serenity of our previous conversation had vanished. Clearly agitated, Fine kept staring at me, then the driver, then the horses who were still grazing.

"What's wrong?"

She didn't answer.

The sun was partially engulfed by the horizon. Finally, the driver stretched and started for the carriage.

"Wait!" shouted Fine. She pointed at one of the trees quite some distance away. "There's some apples on that. Could you pick some for us?"

"Us?" I asked. The always duteous driver turned on his heel and headed for the trees, although I heard him grumble. Confused, I recalled my earlier suspicions, and wondered if they were being fulfilled.

"Fine? If you want apples, we could always order some from the market," I said. "Fine?"

I touched her shoulder. She was trembling.

Suddenly, the horses screamed and stamped the ground. Taken aback by the sudden change, I hardly had time to think of a solution before the carriage was dragged forward by the two horses, neighing wildly as though they were being attacked.

"What, what the-" I cast a quick glance at the driver. He was running back to help, but still, he was quite some distance away, having been ordered by Fine. Could she have planned this beforehand? Could she have planned the horses' behaviour as well? But how?

I could've realised the truth sooner. I could have, I had the brains, if I weren't distracted by something else: the horses, driven mad by some invisible infliction, were running straight towards the cliff.

"Shade!" shrieked Fine. I turned, and found the girl tugging at my sleeves, helpless as the carriage jolted forward. And even if I hadn't made the contract, I couldn't leave her alone.

"Come here!" I ordered. I had swiftly unlocked my side of the carriage door, which was tilting dangerously off the cliff.

"Are you crazy?" one more jolt, and then our only escape route was leading out into the abyss.

"Trust me!" I reached for her, but she shrank further back into her seat.

The horses continued to rave and whine, and suddenly, we found ourselves dangling off the cliff, with only the two back wheels holding us down. The two horses weighed us down, and with their continued struggling, it wouldn't take them long to drag us down as well.

Impatient, I embraced Fine. Shrieking, she struggled like a blind captive, but I quickly reassured her. "It's okay, we'll be safe."

"No, you don't understand!" she yelled, kicking at the carriage, and for a minute I didn't understand either. Didn't she want to stay alive? Then why is she doing her best to ensure our deaths?

"You don't understand," she wailed. And then the unthinkable happened: she hugged me back. "You don't understand," she murmured in my ears.

It would be vain to attempt anything now. Any movement in the carriage would no doubt lead to an immediate plunge. What the weeping girl doesn't know then, was that the fall would not be sufficient to kill me. But it would hurt her, oh yes, it would undoubtedly kill her, unless I interfered.

I pressed her head closer against my chest, so that she was unable to see anything besides the collar of my shirt. "It's okay, Fine. We'll be alright. Eh? We'll climb out of this mess, and when we get back home, we'll visit your old hometown, just as you promised. Won't we? Tell me, Fine, won't we?"

Her damp, dishevelled hair stuck to my shirt. Any time now…I glanced warily at the back of the carriage. Any time now, the drop would occur, and I had to be prepared.

In my embrace, Fine could be any slumbering child, smothered by a mother's love. She nodded slightly, and sighed a soft, flowery breath into my chest.

I swear that her breath had crept slowly into my heart and tainted it.

The carriage fell.

Shrieking at my torso, Fine shut her eyes and clung to me for support. When I was sure that the driver would be unable to catch sight of me, I swiftly abandoned my human form and extended my wings within that cramped space. But that was enough. That was more than enough.

We were suspended in mid air. Like a waltz, we held to each other, trusting one another until the music ends.

At the very last moment, I rolled over and fled the carriage. The two horses fell head first to their deaths, with the carriage crashing onto them. From the bottomless pit, I flew back to the surface, as close as I dared. If I had my way, I would be fleeing to the clouds with her in my arms.

But I know what happened if you fly too close to the sun.

So I perched at a small rock jutting out about thirty meters beneath the cliff. Reverting back to human form, I loosened my grasp around Fine, and allowed her to lean against me.

When she awoke, she was astonished to find that we were not dead.

"I've told the driver to send help. They'll throw down a rope or something, and we'll be back by midnight." The sun had set completely. Within the darkness, the only light I could discern was the reflection of the moon in her eyes. Just in case, I kept my arm around her shoulder. Just in case.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

With her head bowed, she said, "Sorry."

"There's no need to be," I chuckled. "It was just some strange accident." But was it?

Fine lay her head on my shoulder, and absentmindedly I stroked her damp tufts of hair, which stuck out in all directions.

"How long is it before they come to rescue us?"

"Not long," I said. I raked my mind for something to say after so horrific an incident.

"Hey."

"What?" she asked.

"You've said my name."

"Huh?"

"Just now. You've said my name for the first time."

"Did I?" she yawned, and snuggled closer. "Well, maybe."

"It's also the first time you've been so comfortable around me," I murmured into her ear. I couldn't see her expression, even though her face was inches from mine, but I could feel the heat emanating from her. And then, she shoved me away, only to stand up and wave at the men who gathered near the cliff.

"Rescue!" she shouted in joy, and jumped up and down on the rock.

"Careful!" I guided her away from the precipice. "Do you want to fall again?"

"Oops."

Oh, Fine.

Wow, that was long. Sorry I haven't updated for so long, but I'm super busy. I'll promise to update before Christmas though. I can't promise anything else!


	6. Chapter 6

So sorry for not updating, but I've had a ton of work to do and just didn't feel like writing. Hope you enjoy this new chapter, and thank you to everyone who reviewed my work!

Chapter 6

Lightening flashed at midnight. The corridor where I stood was illuminated by the sudden spark across the sky, and somewhere in the distance, the grandfather clock pealed its twelve ring.

Opposite to me, Fine stood in shock. The feeble light from her candle shifted suddenly to the left, and extinguished, but her white nightdress glowed eerily in the dark.

"Fine."

"…Shade."

"Why are you up so late?" I asked. The view from the window was obscured by the blanket of rain, and behind her, the door she went through slammed shut.

"I was visiting Nancy." Adamant, she raised her chin, and stared at me with her limpid, honest eyes.

"Scared of the thunder?" I smirked.

"Not me, her. I always stay beside Nancy when there's lightning."

"Then why is your voice shaking?"

"Am not."

"Aren't you going to stay with her through the night?" I asked.

"She's sleeping. Was asleep when I went to check on her," she said, and flinched.

Lightning dazzled the corridor once again, casting shadows across our faces. Her eyes glowed like fire for that instant, as though they had found a reason to roar and burn. But the light faded as quickly as it had sliced through the sky, and we were shrouded in darkness once more.

"No, you're not afraid of thunder. You're scared of the dark."

"Am not!" she spoke a bit too loudly.

Chuckling, I reached for her hand, hoping to guide her back to her room, but as I moved, a strange whistle resounded.

"What was that?"

"It's just the wind," I reassured her. When she turned back to look, I slid my hand around her wrist, which made her jump.

"What—don't do that." Upset that I had found a weakness of hers, she squirmed and swayed, shifting her weight from one foot to another.

"You'll need to light your candle again if you want to get back to your room."

"I'm…I'm fine. I could just go back."

"Alright then. Go ahead." I opened the door behind me, and the windowless rooms gloated with their growling darkness. Fine took a step, hesitated, took another step.

"Fine then, Get me a candle." Her arm relaxed and brushed against mine.

I brought her to the library. When I first visited it, it was bursting with unused furniture and low-hanging chandeliers, and the shelves were littered with ornaments and busts of stern, dead men. It took me several weeks to refurbish the entire mansion, but I had spent the most time in redesigning the library, pouring over every detail and feeling giddy when imagining my results. I expected that neither Fine nor her future fiancé would have much use for the library (and I turned out to be right), but I just couldn't leave it like that. Not abandoned and ignored, no.

I reckon it to be a harmless fancy of mine, my bias towards libraries. My peers had ridiculed me for such a strange hobby, but there's a feeling I couldn't describe when I'm leaning back on an armchair, surrounded by books and gentle lamplight.

Matches were stored in the second drawer. I struck the match, and relit Fine's candles, as well as the ones on the desk. Immediately, an orange glow suffused the room.

"Finally," she muttered.

As usual, I grabbed the book I left on the desk, and sat down on one of the new, plush sofas to read it. Observing my actions, Fine should have understood this was the end of our conversation, and that she was free to go. However, she stayed.

I glanced at her cocked head, gaping at my book. "Would you like me to accompany you back to your room?"

She shook her head. "What are you doing?" she asked.

I sighed. "What do you want now?"

"I just don't really feel sleepy. Can I stay for a while?"

With a sweeping gesture, I motioned her towards the other sofa, but she ignored me and sat right beside me.

"What's that book?"

"It's a collection of poems."

"Oh."

Unnerved by her presence, I glanced at her intermittently, completely distracted from what I was reading. It was a shame, really, because the pages deserved my utmost attention. Yet she was there, gazing intently at my book, mouthing the words like a curious toddler, and what else can I do?

"If you're not sleepy, why don't you pick up a book as well?"

"I'm not very good at reading."

"Then, I don't know, play the piano or sew or something. Just don't sit here and do nothing."

"I don't like playing the piano, and I'm terrible at sewing. The only thing I like is going outside and playing football, but it's raining so I can't do that. Anyway, you don't let me play football, so there's that."

"Are you trying to annoy me?

"I don't know. Am I annoying you?"

I gave up. Closing my book, I turned slightly to my right to see her properly. She sat upright, hands on knees, her back rigid and tense despite the cushion behind her. "I could blow the candles now and we'd be in the dark," I said.

Shivering, she tugged at the hem of her nightshirt to hide her fear. We sat in silence for a while, until she timidly suggested that I read her a poem.

I scoffed. "I never thought you'd be interested."

"I've never heard one before. I've heard of songs. They're kind of like poems, right?"

"Right."

"Just read me one. Your favourite one."

There it was again, her total determination, and her belief that somehow, she'd wring a response of some sort from me. Grumbling, I acquiesced, flipping to a random page and read aloud,

"For cold and raw the air was, and untuned,

But, as a face we love is sweetest when—"

"What does 'untuned' mean?"

"It means not properly adjusted."

"Why's the air not properly adjusted?"

"It's a metaphor."

"What's a—"

One glare from me silenced her.

"Let's try something else then," I turned to another page, hoping to find something that she'd understand more easily, and settled on one,

"One must have a mind of winter—"

But that led to another round of questions.

"It's all too complicated," she moaned.

"A child said What is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands—"

"Better, but too long." She shook her head again.

"Fine…"

In truth, that was one of the first moments of joy I shared with her. Between her tiresome complaints and my irritation, I had secretly enjoyed sharing one of my passions with her. Poetry wasn't held in high esteem among the demons; they deem it a sign of humanity, and vulnerable sentimentalism, that a demon who loved poetry, and art, and music, was liable to fall in ranks with humans and forget their responsibilities. In retrospect, they weren't wrong. Yet it was their deaf ears to my joy, that prodded me towards Fine, who despite not truly knowing what I was saying, at least tried. Also, the slight crease in her forehead and her nose when she encountered something unfamiliar, somehow made her doll-like face more endearing to me.

"No coward soul is mine,

No trembler in the world's storm-troubled sphere!

I see in heaven's glories shine,

And Faith shines equal, arming me from fear."

Her lips parted in awe at those words, at first, but as I read on, her disapproval settled in, and I was prepared to begin my quest in searching for the right poem again, when her hand rested on mine.

"Go on," she muttered. "That was slightly better."

I read a few more, I read some from ancient poets, and the modern ones, the better modern ones.

Until, at last,

"The first blossom was the best blossom

For the child who never had seen an orchard;

For the youth whom whiskey had led astray

The morning after was the first day."

And her face creased into a smile.

"Satisfied?" I said. I had recited for over an hour now. I had sunk and rose in the dreams of my past, tipped my toe in Elizabethan sonnets and swam amongst the stern verses of the Puritans. These were the words I had listened to, years and years ago, when I was still relatively young(I still am) as a demon, and reading them out loud was like revising my youth, and revealing myself to a whimsical girl who I was forced to protect.

"Thank you."

"Huh?"

"For…for reading for me."

"Did you just say, 'thank you'"

She blushed, and her eyes glowed arduously, like wedding candles. "I just…well…you did something for me and I wanted to…yeah."

Suddenly, I remembered how she had clung to me just this afternoon, as the carriage fell. We were separated as soon as we reached the surface, as I had ordered the servants to wrap her in blankets and the doctors to reassure her, and help her out of shock. Suppose…I smiled inwardly as she fiddled her collar. Suppose she was also thanking me for saving her?

"No," she said when I suggested that. Yet she was unable to look me in the eye.

"That was nice."

"What?"

"Me reading aloud to you."

"Yeah."

For the first time, we both smiled.

"Shade."

"Hmm?"

"Nancy's kind of told me about this agreement between you two."

I froze. Had the bitch reveal my identity to Fine?

"She said you promised to make me a noble woman, or something. But now, now that I am rich, why are you still helping me?"

With that one innocent question, the library lost its glamour. The candle light dimmed slightly, and all else turned to normality. For the first time, I had noticed the emptiness on the shelves after I had cleared out the ornaments, and reminded myself to reprimand the maids for their slackness.

"That's because you aren't a noble woman."

Seeing her confusion, I elaborated. "The old lady who formerly owned this estate was rich, but she didn't have a rank. Her husband made money from investments, and his sister did marry a Baron, but that doesn't count. No, those lords and ladies are far more concerned with bloodline, and I could never have passed you off as someone's lost grandchild. No, there was only one way to fulfil my promise, and to do that you have to first be rich."

"So…how?"

"By marring a nobleman."

Fine was dumbstruck. "There are several eligible bachelors around, all with titles and little money, desperately searching for a wealthy wife to pay their family's debts."

"And all those lessons in singing and dancing…"

"How else would you attract someone into wanting to make you his wife?"

A gust blew in from the gap in the door. Faint peals of thunder were dying in the distance.

"How soon do you plan on marrying me off?" she said sarcastically.

"He's coming to see you tomorrow."

The wind burst through the doors, and the candles went out.

Author's note: Guess who Fine's future fiancé would be?


End file.
